his late forties.
"Please join me," she said, sitting up straight and pointing to a wingback chair opposite the couch. "I really appreciate you taking the time to meet with me."
"It's the least I can do for such an important member of the international press," Russell said. "And such a beautiful one, I might add."
"Thank you." She settled back into the thick cushion. "Care for something to drink?"
"Just had lunch," he said, taking his seat. "What brings you to Moldova?"
"I'm hoping you can shed some light on the disappearance of the Vatican delegation. Anything would be helpful. What do you know?"
"Not much, I'm afraid. At the request of the Holy See, I've made some inquiries with the local government, but they seem reluctant to get too involved. I was told by their chief of national security that the delegation came here at their own risk and may have fallen into the hands of the extremist breakaway group who are fueling this nasty border dispute. To be honest with you, it's getting more and more dangerous to travel to the outlying areas."
"I was under the impression that the State Department helped arrange for the Vatican to get involved, and that they did so at the request of the Moldovian
55
government."
"Well, there is some truth to that." Russell scratched his head and hand brushed his comb-over. "But this is a crazy part of the world, Ms. Stone. For starters, the self-declared republic of Transnistria is an enigma to everyone. Because of the rising political and economic turmoil, traveling across the border can be very dangerous. The few times I've done so, I felt like I was being watched every moment."
"Yes, but you're a high-profile American diplomat. Wouldn't that be expected?"
He shrugged. "I hear reports of people being detained just for speaking English in public or taking a picture of a government building. It's like the old Soviet mentality of paranoia and fear hanging on by its nails for one last breath. The Ministry of State Security, which is nothing more than a modern-day KGB, has all-encompassing, extensive powers. Most of the citizens live in dread. There's widespread corruption at all levels of government. And there is no middleclass to speak of. You're either dirt poor or rich beyond most of the world's standards."
"That's all fine, ambassador, but it still doesn't explain what happened to Cardinal Tyler, Archbishop Roberti, and Father Burns." Cotten glanced around the hotel lobby. There was a scattering of guests moving about. The closest was an older man sitting in a chair nearby reading a newspaper. She lowered her voice. "Are you aware that two Vatican security guards were murdered—
executed?"
"Yes, I read about it in my security briefing this morning. It's so tragic." Russell shook his head. "I was shocked, but not entirely surprised."
"What happened to the legitimate representatives of the three countries that were to take part in the meetings and negotiations?"
"Once the news got out that the Vatican delegation was missing, perhaps kidnapped, the entire agenda for the meetings vaporized. Until there is some definite news of what really happened, I'm told there will be no further negotiations."
Cotten knew she was getting nowhere with Russell. He had completely ignored her question. But she had to play out her requests before deciding what to do next. "What are you doing to locate the missing men?"
"At this point, there's really nothing I can do." He brushed his hair again.
"I have no authority here. All I can try to do is encourage the local government to take action and attempt to find the men. But so far, they've been preoccupied with counterpositioning themselves against their rivals across the border. I'm afraid my hands are tied."
Cotten leaned toward Russell, deciding to get to the heart of the issue.
"Are you familiar with a medieval structure called Wolf Castle?"
He seemed to consider the question first. "It's an old castle in the mountains
"Please join me," she said, sitting up straight and pointing to a wingback chair opposite the couch. "I really appreciate you taking the time to meet with me."
"It's the least I can do for such an important member of the international press," Russell said. "And such a beautiful one, I might add."
"Thank you." She settled back into the thick cushion. "Care for something to drink?"
"Just had lunch," he said, taking his seat. "What brings you to Moldova?"
"I'm hoping you can shed some light on the disappearance of the Vatican delegation. Anything would be helpful. What do you know?"
"Not much, I'm afraid. At the request of the Holy See, I've made some inquiries with the local government, but they seem reluctant to get too involved. I was told by their chief of national security that the delegation came here at their own risk and may have fallen into the hands of the extremist breakaway group who are fueling this nasty border dispute. To be honest with you, it's getting more and more dangerous to travel to the outlying areas."
"I was under the impression that the State Department helped arrange for the Vatican to get involved, and that they did so at the request of the Moldovian
55
government."
"Well, there is some truth to that." Russell scratched his head and hand brushed his comb-over. "But this is a crazy part of the world, Ms. Stone. For starters, the self-declared republic of Transnistria is an enigma to everyone. Because of the rising political and economic turmoil, traveling across the border can be very dangerous. The few times I've done so, I felt like I was being watched every moment."
"Yes, but you're a high-profile American diplomat. Wouldn't that be expected?"
He shrugged. "I hear reports of people being detained just for speaking English in public or taking a picture of a government building. It's like the old Soviet mentality of paranoia and fear hanging on by its nails for one last breath. The Ministry of State Security, which is nothing more than a modern-day KGB, has all-encompassing, extensive powers. Most of the citizens live in dread. There's widespread corruption at all levels of government. And there is no middleclass to speak of. You're either dirt poor or rich beyond most of the world's standards."
"That's all fine, ambassador, but it still doesn't explain what happened to Cardinal Tyler, Archbishop Roberti, and Father Burns." Cotten glanced around the hotel lobby. There was a scattering of guests moving about. The closest was an older man sitting in a chair nearby reading a newspaper. She lowered her voice. "Are you aware that two Vatican security guards were murdered—
executed?"
"Yes, I read about it in my security briefing this morning. It's so tragic." Russell shook his head. "I was shocked, but not entirely surprised."
"What happened to the legitimate representatives of the three countries that were to take part in the meetings and negotiations?"
"Once the news got out that the Vatican delegation was missing, perhaps kidnapped, the entire agenda for the meetings vaporized. Until there is some definite news of what really happened, I'm told there will be no further negotiations."
Cotten knew she was getting nowhere with Russell. He had completely ignored her question. But she had to play out her requests before deciding what to do next. "What are you doing to locate the missing men?"
"At this point, there's really nothing I can do." He brushed his hair again.
"I have no authority here. All I can try to do is encourage the local government to take action and attempt to find the men. But so far, they've been preoccupied with counterpositioning themselves against their rivals across the border. I'm afraid my hands are tied."
Cotten leaned toward Russell, deciding to get to the heart of the issue.
"Are you familiar with a medieval structure called Wolf Castle?"
He seemed to consider the question first. "It's an old castle in the mountains
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